When I talk to people
I've processed things halfway
In the moment
So that later-
in the conversation
or that night-
I realize exactly what
My opinion is or
What I'd truly like to say

It's one of the reasons I like writing poetry

We were almost there
But I was so stupid to let you go
     I never wanted to
                      But I let it happen so
  Now I know
                     This is what I've been waiting for
       You are the one I've found
              The one worth fighting for
                                            I will fight for you.

I am standing
somewhere halfway
to the end
and I don't think
I have lived enough.

More half path
left to travel . .
and I am tired
knowing something
will come soon
something ,
which I am not prepared of

That numb, unfeeling sensation became dear to me, a state of mind accompanying serotonin depletion which meant I could no longer feel. A part of me misses
its darkness. Halfway in-between
checking myself out and going back
to those few, all-too-brief years spent
in the throes of junkiedom, it struck me:

It's the things people don't do that they truly regret.
You can laugh at how awkward you were,
You can't laugh at what never was.
No point living halfway,
All or nothing.
"If I don't go crazy I'll lose my mind,
I saw a life before me but now I'm blind,
I want to go to heaven, never been there before,
I want to go to heaven, so you give me some more".

Give me a decent cloak with a proper hood please.
Merci beaucoup.

There is me,
And
There is you.

I have my books,
You have your video games.

We have our lives.

There's my truck,
And
There's your car.

I have my lift kit,
You have your stereo.

Together though,
We make a whole.

Our half hears,
Connect to make one.